


open book

by mcwho



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Smut, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 02:25:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwho/pseuds/mcwho
Summary: “You’re lying,” Bucky says. “Fuck, even if I couldn’t read your mind I’d know you were lying, Jesus, Rogers, are you seriously this bad at lying? Didn’t you used to be part of a major intelligence organisation?”or, bucky wakes up one day with unlimited access to steve's mind





	open book

**Author's Note:**

> so i wanted to do a halloween fic but it turned into telepathy without even a mention of halloween somehow but thats showbiz baby 
> 
> also, a note: this is incredibly self indulgent and largely plotless 
> 
> hope you enjoy this :)

When Bucky opens his eyes on Wednesday morning, he’s thirty percent sure he’s having a nightmare. Partially because Steve’s too-hot body is plastered so heavily against his back it’s smothering him a little. Partially because there’s a voice in his head that is not his own

He tucks and rolls out of bed, figuring if this _is_ a nightmare, he’s only got a few seconds before things escalate and that voice in his head starts telling him to kill Steve or, he doesn’t know, hundreds of innocent civilians.

He scans the room quickly and then his eyes focus on the exit. The intruder in his head is incoherent for the most part, just white noise, random musings. As Steve’s eyes flicker open, the voice undulates into mild concern. 

Bucky furrows his eyebrows.

Steve says, “guh?” and then pushes himself up with one arm, sleepily rubbing his eyes with the other. When Bucky doesn’t say anything, he tries, “Buck?”, voice thick with sleep. His hair is sticking up everywhere, and he looks ridiculous in that way that’s innately Steve – Bucky’s mind couldn’t conjure up that dumb look on his face if it tried, probably.

So, he’s awake then.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs eventually, rising from the defense crouch he wasn’t aware he’d settled into. 

Bucky fidgets a little while Steve gazes up at him and then asks in a carefully soft voice, “Bad dream, bud?”

It gives Bucky the strength he needs to pick up a pillow and fling it at Steve’s face. Steve just bats it to the ground mid-flight, and it bounces away uselessly. Bucky huffs, planting himself back onto the bed and raking his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. “I’m not even gonna address that until you quit calling ‘em ‘bad dreams’ instead of nightmares.”

Steve gives him a look full of reproach, and Bucky gives him a dead-eyed stare because he knows it creeps Steve out. Steve’s eyebrows raise. He’s not letting him grouch his way out of this one. Bucky should’ve known. Bucky slumps down until he’s laying on his back again, staring insolently at the ceiling.

“What’s the matter?” Steve prompts, propping his head up with his hand, looking down at him.

Bucky squints up at him. “Are – just answer the question, okay? – are you thinking about sucking me off right now?”

Steve’s cheeks heat up almost instantly. It’s alarming, how red he gets. 

“No,” he lies instantly. “No, I wasn’t–”

“You’re lying,” Bucky says. “Fuck, even if I couldn’t read your mind I’d know you were lying, Jesus, Rogers, are you seriously this bad at lying? Didn’t you used to be part of a major intelligence organisation?”

“Did you just say you can _read my mind_?” Steve splutters, which– yeah. That.

“I think I can,” Bucky admits. “Are you trying really hard to not think of anything right now? If you are, then yeah, I can read your mind.”

Steve’s wide-eyed. “I– alright. How long–?”

“Relax, just since I woke up this morning. At first, I thought Hydra’d left some bomb in my head that was just triggered somehow, so. This is an okay alternative. If I was gonna have someone’s voice in my head, it’d be yours anyway. Do you often think about defiling me during heated moments of emotion?”

There’s a pregnant pause. “Only sometimes,” Steve promises, eventually.

“Well as long as it’s only sometimes,” Bucky snorts. Steve rubs little soothing circles into the crook of his elbow. 

“How’d this happen?” Steve asks him quietly. 

Bucky shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine, pal. Not like weirder things haven’t happened.”

**

Steve gets really flustered about it all and starts bugging Bucky to visit medical to get things checked out right away. Bucky tells Steve that if he thinks a little spontaneous telepathy is going to change his no-hospitals policy, then he’s got another thing coming. Then he tells Steve that if Bucky seeing his thoughts bugs him so much he should just leave him alone. They haven’t tested it, but Bucky’s sure this thing must have a distance limit. If Steve gets far enough away from him, it’ll probably disconnect somehow.

That last part is unfair, anyway, because Bucky can see right into Steve’s mind and he knows all his fussing is coming from a place of pure concern. So, when Steve fixes Bucky with another Look, Bucky sighs and stuffs another spoonful of sugary cereal into his face and tells Steve that he can go ahead and call Banner if it’ll put his mind at rest.

It does put Steve’s mind at rest to be given permission to act, and the stress ache in Bucky’s left shoulder is almost instantly soothed. Bucky sips his coffee morosely. He can barely deal with his own emotions these days, and now he’s feeling for two.

**

Banner comes almost immediately. Bucky tries to read his mind too as soon as he walks in, and then quickly realises that this is just a Steve thing. So like most things in his life, then.

“How are you both feeling?” the scientist asks, looking intrigued but also concerned.

“I’m not too bothered,” Bucky admits. Stranger things _have_ happened. “Steve’s full of anxiety and pretending not to be, as usual. I mean I’ve always suspected that that’s his usual state but it’s good to have it confirmed.”

“I’m just worried about you,” Steve says.

“And I know that now more than ever, pal,” Bucky assures him.

Bruce opens the bag he’d brought with him and checks Bucky’s vitals. High temperature, low heart rate, as normal.

He runs a quick test just to confirm Bucky is actually reading Steve’s mind and hasn’t just lost his. He makes Steve think of a number between one and a billion. Steve thinks, “ _seventeen_ ", and writes it down, and Bucky gets it right. They run a few more tests, and they get more and more complicated– Bucky nails every single one.

“Well,” Bruce says at the end of the examination. “You seem to be fine, physically. And this thing isn’t harming you two for the time being, so all we can really do about it is monitor you while we look for a solution and figure out what caused this.”

Bucky nods. He’d figured as much – and being in Steve’s head isn’t all that bad, really. If it were _Steve_ in Bucky’s head, hell would most definitely be raised until the situation was solved – Bucky was not having another person walking around with the Winter Soldier’s memories.

Bucky looks up as Steve’s stream of thought switches. It looks like they’re going from frying pan to fire with this one. Bucky sighs loudly. 

“No. No way,” Bucky tells Steve.

Banner looks up too, mildly alarmed, before he remembers that none of their lives are normal and Bucky is responding to Steve’s thoughts. He goes back to making notes about Bucky’s situation in his notebook.

“Just a check-up? Come on, you were due one soon anyway, Steve reasons.

“In a month. I’m not dealing with it any sooner than I absolutely have to.”

_Bucky, you’re reading minds. I would say right about now is a time when you absolutely have to._

"Just one mind," Bucky corrects him, surly. Steve doesn't reply to that.

Bucky slumps in his chair. He hates when Steve is right.

**

Pepper lets them both right into Tony’s workshop when they explain the situation. Tony seems to think he’s being directly accused of something and gets on the defensive.

“So, what, you think I put something in the arm to enhance Murder Kitty’s mind? Like brain juice? Omega 3? Fish oil?”

“Telepathy isn’t unheard of,” Steve reminds him. “I was thinking something might’ve had a reaction with something else, and… Look, I just want to make sure his arm’s alright.”

Tony thinks for a second, then clicks his tongue. “Mothers, am I right?” He asks Bucky, dumping his welding mask on the bench and leading them to the plush sofa in the far corner of the room that Tony uses for these little visits of his. It’s important that Bucky lie down, and not sit down, while his arm is being examined. Something they all learned together the first time Steve had brought him here, and Bucky had nearly thrown Tony across the room in the middle of a flashback.

“I’m fine,” Bucky mutters to Steve, who’s head is buzzing with worry. Tony looks between the two of them with intrigue.

“Are you sure you even want rid of this? This could be a blessing in disguise, you know. People out there willing to pay for this sort of thing, you’re kind of looking a gift horse in the mouth here.”

“Tony,” Steve says firmly.

“I’m just saying,” Tony says. “You wouldn’t even need comms when we’re out there fighting the good fight. Maybe when we figure out what’s caused this, we could _all_ take a hit–”

Steve dissolves into mild panic at the thought of ever being in Tony’s head. Bucky snorts with laughter. Tony narrows his eyes at them.

“Are you laughing at me? You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? Come on, _I, Robot_ , share the joke with the rest of the class, I wanna hear it.”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky tells him, a faint smile on his lips, one that widens as he catches the glint of amusement in Steve’s eyes. Tony’s eyes remain narrowed as he gathers his tools.

**

So, there’s nothing wrong with his arm. Bucky guessed as much. They thank Stark and leave his workshop before he starts suggesting connecting all of the Avengers mentally, again.

He and Steve go for a walk, just to spend some time out of the house. Steve’s almost totally relaxed now, and it’s such a difference from just a few minutes earlier when his mind was a flurry of nearly incoherent concern for Bucky, that Bucky’s head spins.

He knew Steve was a worrier but _shit_.

It makes Bucky warm towards him more than usual, makes him take Steve’s hand and hold it as they stroll. Steve looks up at him in surprise at the sudden PDA, and Bucky can’t help but smile at the burst of wordless joy that runs through Steve. 

“You’re such a worrier,” Bucky tells him, squeezing his hand a little. “Don’t want you all stressed out over me like this all the time.”

“Well, maybe it’s my turn,” Steve tells him. 

**

“Fuck,” Bucky pants into a pillow. “ _Jesus_ , you’re hot for it.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, so sweetly sincere, Bucky knows it’s not genuine. Bucky arches his back and feels a white-hot stab of pleasure in his gut as Steve responds to it, his mind flooded with dirty, lewd thoughts of what Steve wants to do to his ass and thighs while he’s positioned like this. 

Bucky moans, eyes squeezed shut tight. “You’re fucking twisted, you know that? The things that run through your head–”

“Not much you haven’t heard before,” Steve reminds him, guiding his cock into Bucky. Which, true.

Bucky laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, you run your mouth that much, ’s almost like I’ve been able to read your mind all along.” 

Steve says something, but Bucky doesn’t quite catch it because then Steve’s fucking all the way into him and it’s a heady mix of the stretch and burn of it, the throbbing ache, mixed with _hot wet tight, take take take, mine mine mine, fuck fuck fuck_.

“You fucking caveman,” Bucky moans into a pillow. Steve starts to fuck him, slower than Bucky knows he wants it, letting Bucky adjust. Bucky’s cock drools, the tip rubbing against the sheets with each thrust.

“So worked up already,” Steve breathes, breath hitching as Bucky clenches up around him.

“Like you can f-fuckin’ talk,” Bucky manages, drowning in the thoughts swirling around in Steve’s head. “I wasn’t kidding, you’re so– _ah, Jesus_ –have you always got it this bad?”

“Could fuck you for the rest of today and still be wanting more,” Steve tells him. “Could take you over and over, just like this, ‘til you gotta beg me to stop, ‘til you can’t– You’ve got no idea, Buck, ‘s– the serum’s part of it, but you– _Jesus_ , you’re so–”

It’s like a concoction of sights and sounds right out of the personal spankbank of Steve G Rogers, then – the way Bucky looks first thing in the morning, sleepy and mussed, Bucky dripping wet just out of a shower, Bucky sparring, Bucky’s smile, the way he looks at Steve, the way he gets when he’s turned on, how needy he is, the way he bruises like a goddamn peach, Bucky Bucky Bucky–

Bucky gasps and comes, hands gripping the sheets so tight he’s surprised he doesn’t tear them apart. Steve keeps fucking into him, lips against his neck.

“That’s it,” Steve’s murmuring as he slowly comes down. “Just like that, babydoll, just like that.”

Bucky shivers. “Dunno if coming from you thinking about me might be a little too narcissistic,” Bucky says, voice slurred. Steve laughs, kissing the back of his neck.

“Get off on how obsessed I am, nothing wrong with that. It’s the truth, honey, you know ‘m head over heels for you.”

Such a sweet-talker. Bucky loves him.

“Might be a little biased, then. Not as if you see anything wrong with anything I do anyway,” Bucky tells him breathlessly. 

“Well,” Steve says. Steve’s mind drifts over to what is apparently Bucky’s sole flaw – Bucky constantly leaving his clothes on the bathroom floor next to the laundry hamper instead of just _moving two feet to the left and putting the damned clothes inside of it_. Bucky lets out a pleased gasp when Steve’s pace picks up a little as he dwells on it more, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

 

**

Their sex life is – hectic from then on. Now that Steve knows that Bucky is healthy and happy despite recent developments, he’s a lot more relaxed, too.

Steve thinks about sex _a lot_. 

By consequence, Bucky’s got sex on his mind a lot, too.

These days, Bucky can barely get dressed and leave the house without having Steve put him through the mattress first. 

He has no idea how Steve’s dealt with it all these years, how does he _survive_.

First thing in the morning, at breakfast, when they’re exercising. Don’t even get Bucky started on the time he ate a banana in front of Steve. Steve spends the entirety of an important STARK Industries meeting thinking about bending Bucky over the sink in the bathroom. Has Bucky squirming in his chair for the whole hour, and then afterwards Bucky grabs him and drags him off to go do just that.

“Where’s the romance?” Steve laughs as Bucky shoves him against the locked door and massages the growing bulge in his shorts. “Buy a guy dinner first.”

“Oh, please,” Bucky huffs. “You know how easy you are for it, Rogers? A long glance in your direction would have you ready to go.”

"Got that right," Steve says like it's something to brag about. It sets Bucky off giggling, and Steve backs him into the sink, right where he wanted him. "Gonna ask me for it, sweetheart?" 

Bucky arches against Steve, cock hot and heavy in his pants. Steve's plans for him flit through his head like a lust-addled slideshow. 

"Please," Bucky moans, working a hand between then to clumsily undo Steve's belt. "Christ, please, I can't- need it so bad, Stevie," he pants, flushing hot as the words bounce around Steve's head and the effect reverberates through Bucky's body.

Steve moans, licking into Bucky’s mouth with urgency now, tugging his pants off and yeah, _God, yeah_

**

The weeks pass, and Banner never gives them any update on the situation, so they assume he’s still working on it. It’s not like every emotion Steve has is dick-related. Not every burst of feeling comes with guaranteed orgasms. Steve worries, he gets upset, and he gets injured in battle, and Bucky’s constant Steve-Worry only increases now that he has a direct view into Steve’s head. 

Steve’s on bed rest for at least two days – it’d be at least a fortnight without the serum – after an incident with some Iron Man wannabe who had managed to nail the technology of the repulsors with frightening accuracy.

Steve’s practically itching to get up and move around, so goddamn restless all the damn time. Bucky’s had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to go on several runs he didn’t even want to go on just because Steve’s need to get up and get moving was so impossible to ignore.

“Bucky, I’m fine, really,” Steve lies, as if Bucky doesn’t know that Steve’s ankle is throbbing, or that he’s already burned through the meds he took an hour ago.

“You know I can read your mind, right? As in, I can literally see your thoughts. It’s important to me that that part is clear to you."

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ha ha,” he says dryly. “Yes, smartass, I know you can read my mind – so you can see how fine I am, now let me up, I’ve got a mission report to do and I want to check who’s in charge of clean up, there was a huge wreckage Upstate after the battle–”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly. A few weeks ago, Steve might’ve been able to wear him down, but Bucky would throw an honest to God tantrum before he let Steve walk around on a sprained ankle, and it's because he can read his mind that he _knows_ Steve is _not fine_. 

Steve looks at him, must see the lack of give in Bucky’s expression because miracle of miracles, he doesn’t argue. 

Bucky smiles, beatific, and gets Steve his next dose of painkillers. 

“You’re welcome,” Bucky says to Steve’s unspoken _thank you_ , hopping up on the bed next to him, careful of his leg. “Since you’re the invalid, you can choose the movie,” Bucky informs him, handing him the remote. 

Steve takes it, settling closer to Bucky, slouching a little to get comfy. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s neck, and then starts to scan through Netflix.

Bucky rides the high of getting Steve Rogers to do as he’s told for the rest of the night. 

** 

Natasha has been watching Bucky eat his breakfast for the past nine minutes and thirty-six seconds. Sam has also been weirdly silent during this time. Bucky sort of wishes Tony were here, or maybe Clint, or someone else who likes talking for the sake of it because the lack of conversation feels uncomfortable right now.

Bucky has ebbed and flowed between confusion and self-consciousness at least twelve times during this period. After surreptitiously checking his hair in the spoon he’s using to eat for the fifth time – it looks an artful mess, as usual – he drops it and looks at her.

“What is it?” He asks. He’d figured she’d speak first when she was ready, but it was starting to look like she planned to bore into him with her piercing gaze indefinitely. 

Her expression is one of mild amusement.

“You’re looking cheerful,” she drawls. “Very cheerful, actually, as of late.”

Bucky shrugs, resisting the urge to look away or to, God forbid, blush. He knows what Natasha is hinting at, and he’s not going to give her an opening to–

“Oh yeah, you can just tell he’s getting it _good_ on the regular,” Sam says, throwing Bucky’s plan of caution right out the window. Bucky turns to glare at him, which is a mistake because _when_ have any of them ever backed down from a glare instead of rising up against it. “Well, am I lying? Steve’s got this permanently goofy look on his face, and you both look permanently rumpled.” Sam gestures towards Bucky’s overall appearance with his coffee mug. 

Bucky looks down at himself. He’s in Steve’s sweatshirt, a pair of faded sweatpants that have probably never seen better days, and bare feet. 

Bucky doesn’t remember the last time he felt safe enough in his environment to walk around in bare feet. 

“Huh,” Bucky says, taking a bite of toast and chewing thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, ‘huh’. Looks like this thing’s done you both a lot of good,” Natasha tells him. 

Bucky continues to chew while he thinks about it. Being in Steve’s head does get tiring sometimes. Having to bear the weight of another person’s emotions was tiring. Steve got tired, Bucky was right there with him. Steve was upset about something, Bucky felt it too. A lot of the time these emotions were linked to Bucky in some way shape or form. Bucky hadn’t drawn up any data graphs or anything, but he’d say he was about on the same level as ‘national security’ when it came to Steve’s most frequent thoughts. Which is more flattering than it sounds – or exactly as flattering as it sounds, depending on how well you know Steve.

It’s– reassuring. Steve always told Bucky he loved him, but now Bucky can _feel_ it, feel the adoration radiating from him no matter what Bucky does, how badly he messes up, how much he keeps Steve up at night with his nightmares and compulsive need to check the security settings in the building haven’t failed, sometimes every two hours. Steve still thinks Bucky’s the best there is, wants to love up on him until Bucky knows through and through just how gone he is for him.

Bucky’s been going easier on himself these days, because of it. Let his guard down a little more. He’s noticed it reflected in other people, until it almost seemed like he wasn’t someone everyone was afraid of anymore. Tony doesn’t even call him Murder Kitty these days.

Bucky’s happier and that, in turn, has made Steve happier. 

“You’re right,” Bucky says, swallowing his bite. “It’s been good for both of us, me being in his head. Not having to take his word for things. Got to a better place a lot faster than we would’ve otherwise.”

“I’m so glad you agree,” Natasha says. “Because Banner has had the antidote for your condition ready for about three weeks now.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought! thanks for reading


End file.
